It’s Saturday! I survived Friday and all of the maternity leave related excitement. Thank you to the people who wrote lovely comments on my blog yesterday, it is really comforting to know that other people feel the same and to know that whilst my jealous, self centred thoughts might not be very becoming, they are normal and not something to feel unduly ashamed of. Not that I would announce those thoughts to people outside of my lovely blog world (and my husband).
This week the wife of a friend at work gave birth to their first child (yes the whole world is having babies). She was 10 days over due and whilst the pregnancy had been fairly straight forward, other than her looking like she was full term carrying twins from about six months onwards (pregnant bodies seem to vary hugely and be largely outside of the control of their owners) meaning that her usual love of exercise had to be put on hold for a while, all went well. Until about a week ago. Getting rather frustrated about her lack of mobility, lack of sleep and general desire to meet their baby, she was delighted to finally start contractions. These lasted all day, gradually getting stronger. Her husband left work, ready to meet his child and start paternity leave and they prepared for heading to the hospital. And then NOTHING. Contractions stopped, false alarm, back to waiting. This was a little frustrating to say the least but they were assured by the hospital that it was nothing to worry about. If the baby didn’t make an appearance in the next five days she would be induced.
Two days before the induction date it all kicked off again. Contractions got stronger, they phoned the hospital and were told to wait until they were a bit closer together. Not wanting to risk the whole thing stopping again, they decided to ignore this advice and went to the hospital instead. And lucky for them and baby that they did as it turns out that the baby was in distress. A moment of panic, a general anaesthetic, an emergency C-section and baby was here! As a result of his slightly dramatic arrival they have both spent a few extra days in hospital but have now returned home to start their life as a family.
Hearing this account made me wonder, will I ever have a confident pregnancy? Even if I did manage to make it past a 12 week scan seeing a healthily little baby waving at me, would I truly be able to breath I sigh of relief or have my miscarriage experiences turned me into a life long worrier?
I’m aware that pregnancy can be a difficult time and that there are many risks but I’m not a huge worrier and was always able to find comfort in statistics. I lived in my very happy world were bad things only ever happened to other people. When I found out I was pregnant for the first time I was super confident. I had intense nausea (surely a good sign), I was amazingly tired (another good sign), I couldn’t hug people because my boobs hurt so much (triple whammy of good signs). Nothing could go wrong. I didn’t even contemplate the thought that I wouldn’t be showing off scan photos from 12 weeks. But it didn’t work out like than, and now I’m not so confident. My faith in statistics has been rocked. Just because there is only a 2% chance of something happening definitely doesn’t mean it won’t happen (and happen to me).
The magnitude of the journey ahead feels too much to comprehend at the moment so I keep it broken down into little milestones:
* A BFP (probably quite a few, I generally need the reassurance of POAS every few days, although I don’t know why I find it reassuring as I have had lovely strong blue lines on both days that my miscarriages were confirmed, but none the less I’m sure I’ll still do it next time).
* Make it to 8 weeks with no bleeding. I don’t know why I think of 8 weeks as a massive milestone but it feels like it is confirmation that I am definitely pregnant. My period is usually fairly regular so if I don’t have one for two months then that is a pregnancy milestone in my head.
* Make it to 12 weeks with no bleeding and see a healthy baby on my scan.
* Begin second trimester.
And that is as far as it goes. I feel as if the second trimester is the goal. Hopefully getting there will result in a huge sigh of relief and I’ll find the happy go lucky no worrying girl that I lost at my first 12 week scan. I imagine in my head that she is still there, in the scan room waiting for the right result. The result which she should have seen first time round. And she’ll be given the scan photos she was dreaming of and will skip out of the hospital happy and jolly and bursting to tell the news to her friends and to post the scan pictures all over Facebook as she will never have considered that there might be people who don’t want to see them. I very much hope that she is there and that I’ll meet her at my next 12 week scan (hopefully in the not too distant future). I miss her!